


Where the Heart (or Equivalent Internal Organ) Is

by Lauren (notalwaysweak)



Category: The Cabin in the Woods (2011), Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Episode Style, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 12:23:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2150574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwaysweak/pseuds/Lauren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mysterious building appears in the Whispering Forest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where the Heart (or Equivalent Internal Organ) Is

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BatchSan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatchSan/gifts).



> Welcome to Night Vale belongs to Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor.  
> The Cabin in the Woods belongs to Joss Whedon and Drew Goddard.  
> Nobody is making any money off this work of fan fiction.
> 
> Set post-The Whispering Forest, pre-Dana.
> 
> Betaed by Q, with thanks.
> 
> * * *

_If you intend to gaze long into an abyss, at least consider buying it a nice dinner first. It’s only polite, and will reassure the abyss that you do not want it only for its gaze._

 

Welcome to Night Vale.

 

Dear listeners, we have heard very little from the Whispering Forest. It is still there. It still exists. It still murmurs compliments and endearments to those who come close enough. But after the loss of Intern Richard and the subsequent leaflet campaign by his family, urging people to stay away, nobody has been in there.

At least, nobody has been in there and come back to speak of it, which is very nearly the same thing.

But today a soft white glow has been reported over the Whispering Forest. This glow cannot be attributed to anything that we know is in there. Perhaps the Forest is lonely, and is trying to attract new friends. New... _family_.

In addition to this, there is an old man standing on the edge of the Forest. Nobody has spoken to him; they simply report seeing him, leaning against a tree, apparently immune to its whispers, waiting. Nobody knows who he is, but it seems that he belongs to the Forest. Perhaps the Forest has sent him. For what? We do not know.

More on this story as it develops, if it develops.

 

I received a letter today in the radio station’s letterbox, which was unusual as it has been nailed shut for the last five years due to Station Management’s preference not to receive feedback from listeners. However, as the letter was addressed to me -- in, might I add, very lovely calligraphy -- I thought it would be safe to open it.

The scent of cotton candy, popcorn, and sawdust greeted me when I opened the envelope. There was a note inside that simply read _No place like home_.

I... have to confess that I am unsure what this message means. Listeners, if any of you are the person who sent this letter, or know the person who sent this letter, or have any skills in aromamancy, the phone lines are open.

 

The latest word from the Whispering Forest is “Run.”

To be specific, a certain very handsome scientist and his team have gone out to investigate the soft white glow over the Forest, and the old man standing outside it has told them to run.

Carlos has texted me to say that they do not intend to run, and to ask if I can keep dinner warm for him in case they are late coming back. Oh... there’s another message coming through.

Listeners, it appears that the soft white glow has been replaced by an ominous red glow, accompanied by a sound like the earth shattering, and I need to pick up some coffee because -- oh, I probably wasn’t meant to read that part.

I think the best that I can do is advise all of my dear listeners to stay away from the Whispering Forest until this blows over, or blows up, or whatever the end result is. I hope -- I do very much hope that this will not prove to be dangerous, or at least no more dangerous than the Whispering Forest usually is. I suppose that depends on one’s definition of danger; if your life plan does not involve becoming one with the Forest, then certainly it would be dangerous, or at least inadvisable, to go there. Especially at the moment.

I hope Carlos comes home for dinner tonight. We’re having wheat-free ravioli and it loses its crunch if it’s left to sit for too long.

 

Now, the Community Calendar.

I know a lot of Night Vale citizens have been looking forward to the annual Pride Parade this Tuesday. As usual, Monday will be dedicated to the traditional pre-parade preparations, including the gender and sexuality identity button making workshop. Parade coordinator Tiresias Wilde has confirmed that the genderfluid buttons will actually contain gender fluid this year, and after some debate the “yes please” sexuality button has been retained, with a “classified information” button introduced after lobbying by members of the Sheriff’s Secret Police. When asked to elaborate on the nature of the gender fluid, Parade Coordinator Wilde merely raised an elaborately groomed eyebrow and said, “That’s on a need to know only basis.” They then added that they can “personally vouch” for the fluid’s authenticity.

The parade itself will start at noon on Tuesday and follow the traditional parade route around the town. Night Vale residents are reminded that any negative reaction to the Pride Parade, such as booing, throwing fruit, or catcalling, will be met with puzzled looks and a chorus of “are you all right?” from marchers.

Wednesday is of course glitter removal day.

Thursday _is_.

On Friday, Night Vale residents are encouraged to thank the deity of their choice that it is the “end” of the “week”, although of course residents whose religion does not recognize Fridays are excused.

Saturday is mandatory fire drill day. Residents who do not have a fire pit of their own are encouraged to make their way to Mission Grove Park, where members of the Night Vale Fire Department will be on hand to guide you through the ritual of whispering your deepest fears to a small stick and then throwing it into the flames to purge yourself of those unnecessary terrors.

Sunday is a designated day of rest. This news has been received with gratitude by the Night Vale High School Marching Band, who have been practicing ceaselessly for the last month, and by those who have had to listen to them whimper as their feet crumple from relentless use.

This has been the Community Calendar.

 

The latest news from the Whispering Forest: Carlos and his team have chosen to enter the Forest despite the mysterious warning from the unknown old man. Carlos reports that there appears to be a building of some sort, which he believes to be a cabin, just barely visible through the trees. He has attempted to send me a photograph of the cabin, but the ongoing ominous red glow from the center of the Forest has interfered with the image. At least, I assume so. The photograph shows a horde of strange beings standing around the building, but as Carlos didn’t mention them, I’m not sure that the image accurately represents reality.

Although who can say what _does_ accurately represent reality?

Carlos says that he and his team intend to go into the building, after conducting as many tests as possible to assure their safety. I asked him about the strange beings from the photograph and he replied, “The what?”

I do hope this doesn’t mean that he is walking into the unknown. Any more than all of us do, every day, that we get out of bed and take the chance that the day will bring only familiar happenings. He is, at least, reasonably certain that this building does exist, unlike some with which he has had dealings.

I have just texted him again to ask him to be careful. He has not yet responded.

 

In a possibly related incident, another letter has arrived at the radio station. This one was pushed under my door by a person or persons unknown. This letter does not smell of anything, although when I opened it I could taste lightning on the back of my tongue, and a single raven's feather fell out of the envelope.

It reads, “Death comes for us all.”

Well, listeners, that is hardly news. I would like to take this opportunity to remind you, however, that if Death does _come_ for you, do not agree to any games of chess, checkers, Chinese checkers, or Ōllamaliztli with Death, especially if you think you might lose. Card games are particularly discouraged, and as you all know dice games have been banned since the Polyhedral Incident of '08, so don't even think about it.

 

Listeners, I have just heard what sounds to be the unimaginable howling torn from a hundred malformed throats. Not an encouraging sound to hear through your phone when you are talking to your boyfriend.

As soon as he and his team stepped into the clearing that held the mysterious cabin, they were able to see the strange beings. I could hear the tremors in Carlos’s voice as he called me to report in, seconds before the unimaginable howl.

I think... I think he has dropped his phone. He is not answering when I speak to him.

Carlos? Carlos! Can you hear me?

_Cecil! Cecil, there are giant... giant everything! Giant ants, giant centipedes..._

Are you all right?

_I’m just not sure that any normal ecosystem can support insects of this size!_

What are they doing, Carlos? Are they attacking?

_No... no. They appear to be... examining the trees._

The trees?

_Yes. There’s a giant lizard climbing into one of them as we speak._

How are the trees reacting?

_They’re... impressed, Cecil. They’re admiring the size and strength of these creatures. They appear to be delighted that these things are such prime examples of their species. And Cecil..._

Yes?

_The tree with the lizard is speaking to me. It says that the lizard is thanking it for their new home._

Oh. Oh, well, that sounds reasonable. I guess there’s no reason that the Whispering Forest can’t welcome new inhabitants.

_That takes care of the animals, but what about the..._

About the what? Carlos? What else is out there?

Carlos?

Listeners, the phone connection has broken. Whether Carlos just hung up without saying goodbye, or whether something has made him hang up, I do not know. I’m going to try calling him back. In the meantime, listeners, let’s go to the weather.

 

["[Homecoming (Walter's Song)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jgozu0G4OiU)" by Vienna Teng.]

 

The mysterious creatures from the cabin in the woods have agreed to a peaceful relocation, or at least that is the conclusion that I have reached after finally getting in touch with Carlos again. Most of them were confused and disoriented. Some were unable to speak.

But the Whispering Forest welcomes whoever will hear it, and the Forest has kind things to say to whoever will listen, and who are we to judge the Forest’s choice of friends?

There are a few beings for whom the Forest is not a suitable forever home. There is a merman, for one, who has offered to make his new home over at the Night Vale Harbor and Waterfront Recreation Area. He has been warned that there is not actually any water at the waterfront, to which he replied that he would "make do", and asked about the quantity of "extraneous local wildlife".

It is not clear what exactly these beings were doing in the cabin. Although many of them, according to Carlos, look dangerous, those to whom he spoke said that they were “tired of the games”. The merman added that he “always got picked last”. Wherever they have come from, it seems that Night Vale is an improvement.

There is one more thing though. Carlos has told me that among the strange creatures there is a young woman. She responded to his initial enquiry about her presence with, “Oh, I’m not with them.” He told me that he would bring her back to town, and he has just texted me to say that they are outside. While I go bring her in, here is a message from our sponsor.

 

Nobody knows where his qualifications come from. Nobody knows exactly what they consist of. But everyone knows he tastes great! He’s different. He’s special. He’s not root beer, and he’s not cola, and he’s probably not some kind of fruit flavoring. At least not any fruit from around here.

He knows what your tastebuds want.

He knows what you thirst for.

He will bring you wakefulness, and the exquisite burst of bubbles on your tongue, and that special flavor that you can never quite define but wake craving in the middle of the night.

He may or may not be in your refrigerator right now. Even if you thought he was, he might have gone elsewhere. Such is the risk of giving things, even soda, a name.

Dr. Pepper.

 

The young woman that Carlos brought back from the Forest has agreed to an interview. I asked her into the studio, but she was reluctant to enter, quote, “another weird-ass building”, so we are currently standing in the car park. We being me and the young woman. Carlos has excused himself to go back to his lab, as he has several baggies of samples to take for testing. I didn’t ask what they were samples _of_ , as Carlos can be quite private about his scientific investigations, but they were wriggling and he was quite keen not to drop them.

Back to the young woman. Her name is Dana. She is not, as far as I can tell, an alternate version of our much-loved, much-missed Intern Dana. She does not appear to be a clone, a doppelgänger, or even Intern Dana’s brain in a stranger’s body. She is an unique Dana.

She says that she had a friend with her in the cabin, but that he disappeared somewhere between the cabin and the edge of the Forest. When informed that he may have become one with the forest, she simply shrugged and said, “That’s the sort of thing Marty would be into.” She did not elaborate on this.

Listeners, Dana is asking to go home. She does not know where home is. If you can assist this young woman with locating her home, or even _a_ home that she can call her own for the time being, please contact the radio station. We cannot simply ask her to go into the desert; while that might be suitable for the array of giant animals and some of the other mysterious beings, Dana is just a young woman, and she needs a home.

For the time being, Old Woman Josie has offered to take Dana in and feed her a good meal but, as Old Woman Josie already has several houseguests, who are definitely not angels because they do not exist, this cannot be a long-term arrangement.

I implore listeners to help Dana find her home, even if it is not the one that she originally lived in. There is a place for her here. There is a place for all of us.

 

While I was standing in the car park, a third letter was dropped from the sky by what appeared to be a pink owl. It reads... “Sorry, wrong universe.”

Well, listeners... I suppose that even unusual, possibly supernatural missives can go astray from time to time.

Night is falling. Night is falling softly across this beautiful town of ours, covering it in a gentle blanket of darkness and dreams. For those of you who are at home, now would not be a bad time to turn on some lights and check the condition of your evening meal. Is it ready to eat, perhaps when your loving partner arrives home to share it with you? I hope so.

For those of you who are not yet at home, follow the streetlights. Just not the orange ones. Never the orange ones.

Enjoy your dreams, Night Vale. If they are bad, remember your lucid dreaming training, and walk quickly -- do not run -- to the nearest exit. If you find yourself in someone else’s dreams, please remember to leave the dream in the condition that you found it.

Good night, Night Vale. Good night.

 

_Today’s proverb: An apple a day keeps the doctor away. Keep your local doctor in business. Eschew apples._


End file.
